the big C word

The day the big C called.

Three hundred and sixty five days, that’s the time they said,

Within that time, the doc says, for sure, I will be dead,

The big C, has finally knocked upon my door,

And within one year, I will be, no more,

So I’ll drink one last brandy, smoke my final cigarette,

Pray of all I know, they will never, me, forget,

Hope some friends will call, help send me on my way,

Sons and daughters all, will by then have found their way,

All I have seen and done, will see me smile, until the end,

My children left behind, a mothers love I send,

Good company I’ve kept, times we laughed and smiled,

A good life I’ve had, to womanhood from child,

A year he says, use it, as you see fit,

There is little more to do, little time to dwell on it,

So decisions are to be made, I’m asked to make a will,

For after I am gone, when of this life, I’ve had my fill,

Twelve long months, for myself to just decide,

If the years I have lived, were rough or smooth a ride,

If there were, more happy times than sad, in all that I have done,

To make them understand, I love each and every one,

Fifty two weeks, to get my act together, and ease the way,

For a seat at the bar in heaven, a wee brandy served each day,

Not so much to ask for, and I couldn’t ask for more,

The good company of all, whom I have loved, and gone before,

But whatever happens, on the day I go to rest,

When ye lay me out, be sure, I look my best,

Raise a glass of brandy, toast me on my way,

I’ve lived, I’ve loved, I’ve laughed, and enjoyed each and every day.